Devil in the Box
by WackyGoofball
Summary: A new case brings back some old demons for Deeks when one of his devils comes back out of its box. What will happen? Read to find out ;)
1. Chapter 1

_**NCIS L.A. - Devil in the Box**_

Author's Note: Hello, everyone! If you already read one of my stories (for which I'm very, very, very thankful if you did, if not, I'm still thankful you look into this one), you know by now that I'm a Deeks-fan. I actually started watching this show because of him. Therefore, I want to dedicate another story to him.

I started it a while ago, but this is not worked out yet. I post this to hear your opinion if this is actually something... well, worth the exploration? I have a vague idea in mind, but I'm not yet sure if I should continue this or develop it any further. So it would be great if you told me what you think of it.

I started writing this fic because I still hope that they will further contemplate on Deeks's past on the show. I'm honestly waiting for a "Deeks, M." episode, _badly._ I just think that there is more in Deeks than the guy for comic relief. But enough of my... Deeks-advertisement.

I will not put up great warnings _yet_ because I don't know where to take that story yet, but I have a dark theme in mind, so whatever I unravel in Deeks's past won't be pretty, but I don't think this comes as a great surprise.

As for the setting, this should be somewhere around season 2 to 3, I think... but definitely before Sidorov and before Deeks's and Kensi's "thing" actually became a "thing".

I don't own anything, at all. Never did, won't ever. You know how it goes ;)

Anyway, I think I've bothered you enough with my long Author's Note. I hope you'll like it.  
Thanks in advance!

* * *

Deeks walks into the bullpen with coffee and a bag of donuts, humming some Rock tune. He drops the bag in front of Kensi on her desk, causing her to frown incredulously, "What? Did you do something stupid or why you bringing me donuts?"

"I decided to be nice and feed the dragon, and that's what I get? Fern, where's the love, huh? Huh? I'm being the partner of your dreams to answer all your cravings – and all I get from you is scorn! So mean!" he cries out dramatically. Kensi rolls her eyes at him, "You little drama queen."

"... But if you don't want them... I can take them back...," Deeks smirks, sliding the bag back, but Kensi already grabs the paper bag, tightly, "No, no, no. Leave them there, tiger."

"Grr," Deeks growls playfully. He walks over to Sam, hands him a tower of two cups, takes the top one to give to Callen before he walks to his desk.

"You sure you didn't do anything? That you bring us all coffee and donuts... you know?" Sam grimaces suspiciously.

"Suspicion makes you wrinkly, didn't you know that, Sam?" Deeks smirks as he takes his bag off.

"It doesn't, you moron," Sam rolls his eyes at the detective.

"Yeah, it does. Scientifically proven, dude," Deeks argues.

"Bullshit," Sam huffs.

"Well, all pseudo-sciences aside for a second, is just... You look happier than usual," Callen says as he takes a sip from his coffee, and Sam adds, "And I thought that this was hardly possible."

"Right, we already thought that the smile would come off!" Callen teases.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, well, went to surf today and caught the most amazing wave since, uh, 1990. Then you gotta be happy no matter what. My legs still tremble thinking about it. Was so friggin' good! That's a high drugs don't buy!" Deeks snickers, causing Sam to frown, "What was so special 'bout the one in 1990?"

"Perfection, Mr. Hanna, simple as that. Right place, right time, right water, right height, right length, right circumstances, easy: _perfection_," Deeks explains, "Plus, who could possibly forget about 1990 – when Nelson Mandela came outta prison, the WWW established, the first McDonald's in Moscow, _The Hunt For Red October_, _Days of Thunder_, the godly _Goodfellas_, which is one of Scorcese's masterpieces, _Die Hard 2: Die Harder_ with Bruce the friggin' Willis, the life action _Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles_ movie adaptation – and of course one of the most amazing things ever: _Thunderstruck_ by AC/DC. How could this possibly _not_ have been the best wave ever?!"

Kensi laughs out loud since the TMNT part and holds her stomach. She knows her partner is weird at times, but he never ceases to surprise her.

"He just did a Wikipedia on us," Callen shakes his head.

"I'm still not past the turtles!" Kensi laughs.

"Fern, insult me, but not the Turtles, okay?" Deeks argues, keeping a straight face.

"I'd... never," Kensi brings out between huffs of laughter.

"Better be, coz otherwise I wouldn't even know you. I mean, those are... friggin' superhero turtles eating pizza and wielding around those badass ninja weapons. Nothing's cooler than a superman-turtle eating pizza with... badass ninja weapons," Deeks nods to himself.

"You're such a dork," Kensi snickers. She knows that he likes to act like a kid or teenager at times, at best, if he isn't acting like a total child. However, all of them got used to it by now. This is his kind of humor, and part of his personality. Deeks is just, well, Deeks.

"So this wave today came close?" Sam asks, coming back to the main topic.

"Closest thing than ever! I mean, never gonna catch a better one, fine, but... I almost cried when I realized it was over already," Deeks whines playfully.

"You're weird," Sam shakes his head.

"You never tried it, so don't judge it, Big Guy," Deeks huffs. Sam just has no idea how amazing surfing is, this surge of absoluteness, freedom. No, you have to try it before you understand it.

"I just can't imagine that...," Sam wants to argue, but that is when Eric chooses this moment to make his appearance and beeps at them with a mini trumpet.

"Guys?" Eric proclaims dramatically. The agents follow him and walk into the Ops.

"I thought Hetty would be around?" Callen glances around.

"And Nell," Kensi adds. The two analysts are inseparable after all.

"Nell is at a dentist appointment," Eric explains, "and Hetty is still talking to Director Vance about something, top secret, most likely."

"She in trouble?" Sam grimaces.

"Don't say that out loud! That's just like Bloody Mary curse," Deeks cries out.

"What, talking about Hetty or that she's in trouble?" Sam grimaces.

"Both? But especially the latter. You know how it is, you say it, then it happens, well, except for Maya Apocalypse. That was just bogus, but like...," Deeks looks around nervously.

"You're really that superstitious?" Sam makes a face. He actually didn't take Deeks for the type.

"Not superstitious just _superspicious,"_ Deeks nods, happy about his new word creation.

"What's that?" Sam knits his eyebrows. The other two snicker. A little while ago, Sam has started to take it upon himself to actually... ask about Deeks and his word creations. Now those two will always discuss Deeks's weird theories, or rather, Deeks is totally excited when he delivers his theory or explanation and Sam just gives him this "bullshit"-look. That interaction is simply hilarious.

"Su_spicious_ of the _super_stitious stuff. Superspicious," Deeks explains.

"Another Deeksism for the jar," Kensi smirks.

"We have a jar for that, like a swear jar?" Deeks blinks at her.

"I will not answer that," Kensi snickers.

"C'mon, if there is a jar for my wonderful word creations, I gotta know! I got a right! Those are my ideas after all!" Deeks exclaims.

"Shut up already!" Kensi nudges him in the side.

"I will start a 'Kensi's mean jar' - I bet I'll have a million dollars by the end of the month! And then I go to dinner without you!" Deeks pouts playfully.

"You try, you die," Kensi sticks out her tongue.

"That makes two dollars for the Kensi jar," Deeks smirk.

"So... Eric, whatcha got for us, for real? To put an end to this?" Callen says. Someone has to get the group to focus here after all. This can be such a kindergarten at times.

"Uhm, Lt. Sergeant William Baker, Navy SEAL," Eric explains, "He was found dead in a warehouse near the peer by a group of junkies who wanted to get high in said warehouse."

"Maybe some of them quit thanks to that experience," Sam suggests.

"Then it may have something good after all... either way... he was shot in the back. He was instantly dead," Eric explains.

"Blitz attack," Sam nods, "This guy didn't want to face him, that's for sure."

"Or it was two... one distracted him, and then the other one took him out," Kensi argues.

"Either way... cowardice," Sam grunts.

"Was anyone seen around the scene?" Callen asks.

"Not directly, but... we were able to get Baker's phone working again. And he got called by this number fifteen minutes before he was caught on video surveillance upon entering the building," the analyst informs them.

"So the murderer ordered him there," Callen nods.

"And Baker didn't know that place – or else he would've bypassed the camera," Kensi adds.

"Well, the people or person who did this was smart enough not to be caught on cameras near the scene, but... I was able to track down the phone with which Baker was called... and that lead me to a person by name Francis Harper. Now this guy gave me no valid address, for some reason, _but_... since I'm simply amazing, I tried to trace back the source of the call... and it led me to this café, and... it has video surveillance... and of the time of the call, there were only three people on the phone: a teenage girl, a woman... and this guy," Eric explains. He shows a picture of the man on-screen. Deeks, who stands a little behind the guys, is visibly tensing up, but that goes unnoticed by the rest of the group.

"Good job... so what we got on that guy?" Callen asks.

"And this is where the mystery starts: There's nothing 'bout him. No valid address, no nothing. It's as though this person didn't exist until he was caught on camera, like one of those creepy ghost captures you find on the internet. Only becomes real the moment it's banned on camera, yikes," Eric makes a face.

"So this guy got a new identity little while ago," Callen concludes.

"From the looks he he hasn't been to military, or at least not for long," Sam throws in.

"Yeah, the posture doesn't fit," Callen tilts his head.

"Maybe he's just out of training," Kensi argues.

"Yeah, might also be," Callen nods.

"So the challenge is to find out who that guy really is. He might be our best candidate to be responsible for Baker's death," Kensi adds.

"... Don't bother," Deeks speaks up, his voice suddenly almost hoarse.

"What was that?" Kensi blinks at her partner. Deeks walks up to the screen, his eyes wide, his features tense.

"You know this guy from a case for LAPD or what?" Callen questions.

"No," Deeks shakes his head. If only that were true...

"Then what?" Sam grimaces.

"... Guys, meet Gordon John Brandel," Deeks says, pointing at the screen. Kensi stares at him, gaping. The others do, too, but look rather confused.

"Who?" Sam blinks.

"My father," Deeks says.

Silence falls.


	2. Chapter 2

"What?!" Sam makes a face. _What?! _His mind is still reeling after what he just heard.

"Sorry," Deeks grunts and simply walks outside the Ops.

"Didn't...," Callen grimaces, but Kensi already jumps in, "Yeah. And I thought he was dead for good."

There is a bang audible outside the door.

"Go look after him," Callen tells her. Kensi nods before rushing outside. Deeks stands to a wall... and that wall has a huge bump now. The female agent breathes through her nose once before she comes closer. Deeks still holds up his fist with which he punched the wall, blood trickling down his knuckles, a few spatters on the wall. She grabs his shoulder and tears him away from the wall a bit, though he still holds up his wrist trembling. She tries to get into eye contact with him, but he looks to the side, nostrils flaring, his curls falling over his eyes.

"Deeks. Look at me," Kensi says in a calm but steady voice. He bits his lip.

"Deeks. Don't do this to me," Kensi begs. He turns away even more.

"Don't shut me out," Kensi demands. This time he faces her, his eyes never looked as anger-ridden and as deeply hurt as they do now. She gently takes his wavering hand and guides it down, his muscles still tensed.

"It's okay. Let it go," she whispers. His muscles ease a little.

Kensi: "It's okay," she mumbles. She knows it's not. Nothing about this is, but... she just has to say something, anything. She has to try. Kensi lets out a shaky breath, "C'mon, let's get your hand treated first, alright?"

She turns him around and they start to walk down the hallway, where the others are standing in the doorway as they pass by. She nods at the team as she walks past.

…

"Now what the hell's going on here?!" Sam demands. Deeks just declares that their murder suspect is his father... and then walks out._ Just what the hell_?!

"All I know is that this guy definitely shouldn't be alive anymore," Callen grimaces, glancing at the screen another time.

"I... I didn't know about this, I'm sorry, I just...," Eric holds up his hands in surrender.

Suddenly Hetty stands next to them, along with Nell.

"This is not your fault, Mr. Beale. I have to apologize for leaving you alone with this... and Mr. Deeks," Hetty shakes her head. That is bad, really, really, really bad.

"What?" Sam asks again. Hetty walks up to the screen with the man's picture still on it, "I never would have asked Mr. Deeks to be in the room if I had known, but... it was mere chance that I was gone, as well as Ms. Jones."

"What do you have to do with it?" Sam makes a face at the analyst, "I found some information about Gordon John Brandel upon Hetty's request."

"When was that?" Callen asks, and Hetty replies, "Short after Mr. Deeks was shot. By the time he was still listed as his next of kin... and Mr. Deeks thought that he may have been after him... yet, this man was supposed to be dead since 1998, and I can't say that I feel good about seeing him walking the face of earth now again..."

"After he was released from prison, he died in an auto accident, at least that's what we thought until this showed up. I didn't know about this, otherwise... god," Nell shakes her head, letting out a shaky breath.

"Hey, that's not your fault," Callen assures her.

"So now... what is the business with Mr. Brandel? Why is he on my screen?" Hetty demands. She has to start fixing this situation.

"I linked him to the murder of Navy SEAL Lt. Sergeant Baker, but under his alias Francis Harper... this happened last night... I... didn't know...," Eric makes a face.

"Well... that is... _problematic,"_ Hetty grimaces. And that is probably the understatement of the century.

"Yeah, more than that...," Callen makes a face.

"Normally, under such circumstances, I'd rather like to move the investigation to an outside party, but... it's clearly for our agency, no way around it," Hetty says, "Such trouble... either way, so it's our obligation to catch this... _person_."

"Sam? You and I will go to the scene, see what we find. I don't think Deeks wants to see anyone now anyways... better we have something to work with once we come back," Callen suggests.

"Quite right. Ms. Jones, Mr. Beale, I would politely ask you to gather as much information on Gordon John Brandel AKA Francis Harper as you can. Ms. Jones, about data involving Mr. Deeks, you will have to wait for him to give his okay. Consult me if there are open questions or uncertainties. I do not wish to intrude Mr. Deeks's privacy any more than we already did with... finding this demon from his past," Hetty orders. She wants to try to keep it as impersonal as she can, for Deeks's sake already.

"On it," the analysts agree and start to work on their computers furiously.

* * *

Meanwhile, Kensi is sitting with Deeks on the couch, disinfecting his hand.

"Does it hurt?" Kensi asks.

"Is fine," Deeks says, though he is not even looking at her.

"Okay, just say something," Kensi grimaces.

"Something," he manages to joke. She smiles softly at him.

"I'm sorry that you're confronted with this... this is...," Kensi grimaces sympathetically, but Deeks completes, "Shit."

"Yeah," she sighs. There are no words to describe this, actually, so they will go with this for now.

"And the day started off 'bout just right... dammit," Deeks bites his lower lip. Really, his day was good, it was amazing. Everything seemed fine. He could joke around with Kensi and with Sam... they even had donuts. Everything was okay, but now it's... _chaos._

"I know," Kensi grimaces sympathetically. She bandages his hand. Once she is finished, he holds his wrist gently and squeezes, "You're not alone with this, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," Deeks smirks faintly. He knows he can always count on her.

"Deeks?" Kensi says, causing him to frown, "What?"

"Look me in the eyes," Kensi demands, and he does, so she says with determination in her voice, "You're not alone."

"Okay," Deeks mumbles, offering a weak smile.

"You wanna go outside or... I don't know, go home?" Kensi offers. He would probably like to be anywhere else _but_ here.

"No," the detective shakes his head.

"Okay... whatcha wanna do then?" Kensi asks. Deeks gets up and walks back over to his desk, settles down, and starts to fill out papers. Kensi frowns at him, "Deeks, I think you don't have to..."

"That's what I wanna do for now," Deeks declares. Paperwork is simple. It's ordered. It's not chaos. And more than anything he needs something beside that raging chaos inside his mind now, anything to take his mind off of the tragedy and bad memories that try to creep their way back into his mind, after they were carefully put away for years now.

"Okay... but... just so that you know, you don't have to stay here or so. A word, I take you wherever you want," Kensi offers softly.

"Maybe Vegas," Deeks smirks.

"I can get us on a plane in an hour," she replies, and she actually means it.

"Yeah? Just coz I feel bad?" Deeks huffs.

"For you, I'd do it, okay, partner?" Kensi assures him.

"I would take you to Vegas also," Deeks smiles.

"Good, so don't feel afraid to ask. Toothbrushes are available even in Vegas," Kensi offers. Deeks smirks at her before he retreats to his work. She lets out a sigh before she leaves him alone, figuring that he just needs to focus on something simple to keep his head occupied. She walks back into the operation room to find Eric and Nell madly working on their computers.

"How is he?" both ask simultaneously, worry and concern washing over their faces.

"Anything but fine, but... kinda fine_-ish,"_ she makes a face, Kensi doesn't know how to describe Deeks's state now, "He is doing some paperwork. Keeps him occupied."

"I can't say how sorry I am. I knew about Brandel. If I had seen it before...," Nell grimaces.

"That this guy's around again has nothing to do with you. No blaming here, that's the last thing we need," Kensi assures the analyst.

"Yeah, yeah, you're right," Nell nods, though she still blames herself for not seeing it sooner.

"I take it Sam and Callen are at the scene?" Kensi asks.

"Yeah," Eric nods as he punches in some numbers.

"So what can I do?" Kensi asks. She needs something to do, something productive. Anything to help her partner.

"Well, I don't wanna push, but Hetty's said that we're not supposed to touch information involving Deeks, but... things get kinda thin," Eric grimaces.

"That's the nice term. That guy's been gone since he was considered dead... and before that... he was with Deeks... and that's the part we can't touch... so we can't trace back further...," Nell explains.

"I don't know if he's gonna like that...," Kensi grimaces. No, she knows he won't.

"I'm just saying," Eric shrugs.

"He's _definitely_ not gonna like this...," Kensi sighs.

"But I don't think he'd like it if that guy got away either," Eric argues.

"I know...," Kensi bites her lower lip.

"I can ask him also, but I think he'd be better off with you, coz... you know...," Eric grimaces. They are friends and partners, right?

"Yeah, yeah, you got a point, I know," Kensi nods, "Is just... I just told him to take it easy and do what he wants, and I directly push him down the next bottom."

"You said I shouldn't blame myself, so don't blame yourself either. Not your fault this guy's the ass of asses!" Nell argues.

"Okay, uhm, good point, which is actually my point, anyway... alright, I'll go talk to him," Kensi grimaces, already working on a strategy inside her head.

"Thanks, Kensi," Eric nods. She walks back down to find her partner still working on the papers like a maniac. She kneels down next to him to get into eye contact with him.

"Missed me that much already?" Deeks smirks weakly.

"In fact," Kensi flashes a brief grin.

"Whatcha want?" Deeks asks. He knows that grimace his partner is making... it means bad news.

"Well... uhm... I know what I just said, but... Eric and Nell are working on gathering information on _him..._ but... he's been gone for so long that it's kinda hard to find something... without touching your personal files and all. And Hetty wanted to have your explicit okay for it to sight that material," Kensi explains, biting her lower lip. This is just so unfair.

"This is only getting better and better," Deeks sighs, leaning back in his chair. Just when does this end? It should have ended back when he took that damn gun. And it definitely should have ended when this guy was supposed to be dead.

"I'm so sorry," Kensi exhales, hugging her arms for comfort.

"Is not like you want that... just happens to be one of the shittiest days of my life... and that one's up all the way for the top five," Deeks huffs.

"I picture," Kensi grimaces.

"... I don't come around that one, do I?" Deeks says soberly.

"We can work without. It's just that it'll take more time. But we'll make the effort if you want us to, Deeks. You don't have to show anything that you...," Kensi licks her lips, but then Deeks speaks up, "He needs to be caught... and this will only... take more time... and the less time it takes, the better... But... if it's possible, I'd like only Nell and Eric in on this first, and then they talk to me about what they found out... is not I don't trust you guys, but there's just some parts about my past I'd rather not share. Not all bright moments."

"Okay, sure... so only them," Kensi assures. This is not the time she should make demands. Deeks has a past, she knows, and it's an awful past. Therefore, she understands that Deeks doesn't want to show everything about himself. She wouldn't want that either. Mission or not, this is personal. To become part of a case is already bad enough, but to be dissected like an insect under the microscope by your peers is even worse, especially to someone like Deeks, who made it his personal obligation to give the impression that nothing can harm him thanks to his broad smile and hopeful eyes.

"And Hetty. Coz she knows everything anyways. I'd like to say that you... ugh, could, too... but I'd rather tell you all that myself... than... you know... have it on screen. Then I feel like a case, and I don't like that thought," Deeks admits, and Kensi nods, "Okay, I understand that."

"Is not coz I don't trust you...," Deeks grimaces, but Kensi holds up her hands, "Deeks, I get it, _honestly._ I get it. You take your time. You only tell me what you want and when you're up to it. You don't have to go all out just because he bumps back into your life. And I won't ever hold that against you. I assure you. It's okay."

"Thanks," Deeks breathes. He really has an amazing partner... and that's about the only remedy he feels now.

"Not for that. I wouldn't want that either, just so that you know," Kensi assures him, "Okay, I'll inform Eric and Nell. Thanks for this."

"Please, no thanks for that," Deeks grimaces. That is nothing you should be thankful for. It really isn't.

"Okay. Uhm... Callen and Sam are at the scene, by the way," Kensi tells him. Deeks nods before his eyes focus on the papers again. She pats his shoulder another time before walking back upstairs. This time Hetty is in the Ops as well.

"What did he say?" Eric asks nervously.

"He gave his okay that you three can sight the material, but before you tell us, if possible, he wants to hear it and maybe tell what to leave out, if it isn't vital to the case. He doesn't want to show everything about himself to us yet, and honestly, I understand that," Kensi explains.

"Didn't think he'd be that willing," Eric shrugs. No, he actually believed that they would have to move behind his back, or rather... he feared that they might be forced to.

"He sees the necessity. That's why. Otherwise be sure he wouldn't let either one of us, me included, know about this. I've never seen him like this," Kensi bites her lower lip. On the few occasions Deeks mentioned his father, he brushed it off with his trademark humor. When he was shot, he allowed a bit more insight, but other than that... Deeks is actually the type of guy who doesn't like to show emotion revolving around his past. Or facts about his past at all. It is something he likes to hide behind his humor and sunny personality.

"Can't really blame him," Nell grimaces.

"Ms. Blye, come with me outside, so that our analysts get time to work on this sensitive matter, shall we?" Hetty jumps in. Kensi turns to her, "Of course."

The two go outside.

"So, Ms. Blye, how are you holding up?" Hetty asks.

"Me?" Kensi blinks at her, so Hetty goes on, "I have to know if you're up to supporting him and working on the case. You knew about Mr. Brandel before this occurrence. That means that you have, well, let's say your thoughts and bias about this... _person_... and I have to make sure that you can work on this professionally if needed."

"I can. I really can," Kensi assures her, "I mean... I hate this guy for what he did to Deeks, but... I can shut that off for his sake. Deeks is the one who gets to be upset on this case, no one else."

"Very well. Then I can send you to check out the café where he was last seen at. Ms. Jones already sent the address to your phone," Hetty nods.

"Okay... uhm... about Deeks...," Kensi bites her lower lip. She doesn't like to leave him, but Hetty already tells her, "I will keep him company, no worries."

"Thanks. I don't like the thought of him being alone... he already punched a wall," Kensi winces.

"I will make sure that he does no further damage to himself, or the walls of this building, even if I have to tie him to the couch."

Kensi walks off. Hetty wants to go away, too, as suddenly Eric appears in the doorway.

"Hetty? We got a problem here," he says.

"And what is that _now_?" Hetty sighs. Really, she already heard that sentence too often in a day. Both walk back inside.

"So? What is the next issue here?" Hetty asks, glancing at the screens.

"We did a quick scan on Deeks' file... and _goddamn_, by the way, but far more importantly...," Eric grimaces, and Hetty nods, "Almost no information about Mr. Brandel."

"We only have something once Deeks shot him as a child. After that we have the record of his prison time... and even that file's thin. We only have the charges for domestic violence and some reports, but... it's as though there never was a Gordon Brandel before Deeks was born," Nell explains.

"This is... of course a problem," Hetty grimaces. And it's definitely something that makes her suspicious. That is not what you'd expect from a drunkard who turned violent on his family after too may shots of tequila.

"We think it was removed... but we don't know how... or where exactly...," Nell makes a face.

"And we just asked him to release that information... only to give him the next punch in the gut. This is insane," Eric exhales sadly.

"I will handle it. Carry on with your research. I'll see what I can do," Hetty nods before she leaves the Ops again.

And it was supposed to be a normal day... bugger.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: Wow, thank you so incredibly much for the nice and overly encouraging reviews! I didn't believe I'd actually get such positive feedback, so thanks a lot!

As I already mentioned, I haven't written everything yet. I just have some scenes down, and now I have to build up the rest of the plot, so I hope everything will pan out eventually. If not, I will revise everything till it fits ;)

*mini spoiler* (if you don't want to know, then skip it) - I mention Deeks' mother here shortly, so this is just what I came up with... if the show decides for her story otherwise, then... that's how it is and it is AU. Same for Brandel, I just made this up. I might stretch on the background later, but that's not out yet. There are just so many ideas dancing through my brain thanks to your encouragement! Bear with me, please ;)

Anyway, I hope you'll like this one, too.  
Read, review, enjoy ;)

* * *

Hetty walks down the stairs to the bullpen, where she can spot the withdrawn detective still signing and piling papers, though it looks more like he is trying to build up a castle wall around himself, as if this could shield him off of all the bad that is attacking him.

"Mr. Deeks," Hetty says as she takes her stance in front of the blond man. He blinks at her, snapping out of his trance-like state, "Hetty."

"... I think I don't have to ask you how you feel," Hetty sighs sympathetically.

"Yeah, that's a good guess," Deeks manages a weak smile that dies on his lips the moment it crept up to his face, Sorry."

"Mr. Deeks, you needn't apologize for anything," Hetty assures him. Deeks nods, "Thanks."

"Though I may have to apologize," Hetty admits, biting her lower lip. Deeks looks at her, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Hetty, is not your fault that he may have murdered someone. Is not like you had the obligation to watch out for that guy to crawl outta his grave to protect me from getting involved... and I don't ask you for it, wouldn't ever."

"No, that is something I'm aware of," Hetty shakes her head, "but I know that we're asking a lot of you when it comes to the case and the privacy boundaries we clearly overstep with this."

When you work as an agent for so many years, changing identities like others change their clothes, you really learn to appreciate and cherish the bliss of privacy. It is the last bastion, this unchangeable core that you cling on to when times are hard, or even harder. Hetty knows just how important privacy is for people of their profession, because that is the life they return to once the mission is over. Thus she understands just how much a toll it must take on the young detective to be forced to expose himself that way – and that because of someone to whom he owes this awful past to begin with.

"It's information. I know that the more information... the better the investigation and interrogation," Deeks argues, looking incredibly tired, "But you don't have to worry. I don't want to have to do with the investigation,_ at all_. I know it should be the other way around, but... uh... that guy was dead to me for some fifteen years now. And honestly? I don't want to make any effort to revive him inside my head, or at all, so... just put me on light duty, if that's okay, coz I'd rather do some paperwork than be at home."

"I wish I could," she sighs, which makes Deeks frown at her, "What? You ban me completely? I'm not even asking for updates."

_Really,_ is it asked that much to have at least a proper distraction?! This is actually _productive_ distraction!

"No, I would _love_ to put you on light duty, but," she bites her lower lip, "I fear... we came to a point where your involvement, against all odds, against any rule, became vital to this case."

"What does that mean?" the detective grimaces... this is _definitely_ his own personal nightmare. Anyone up to pinch him really hard to make him wake up again? That would be _really_ kind of him or her!

"Mr. Beale and Ms. Jones are working on the information with all their might, yet... Mr. Brandel seemingly did not exist until you were born. It's as though he never lived," Hetty explains.

"But...," the detective makes a face. That doesn't make any sense. How is that even possible? They get information on terrorists in Afghanistan, to the point that they know which cereal brand they prefer, but they have nothing on this stupid bastard?!

"That is what the papers tell us. I would suspect that either he or someone else helped him in deleting his personal information, but... it seems as though we cannot gather it again. We don't even know what we're looking for," Hetty shrugs.

"This is not some kinda sick joke, is it?" Deeks grimaces, though he still hopes it is. _Please,_ let it be a morbid joke at his expenses.

"I wish it were, Mr. Deeks," Hetty exhales heavily, "I wish it were..."

"Not even a chance?" Deeks tries, but Hetty just shakes her head, "Sadly no."

"God," he huffs, leaning back in his chair a bit, "and the day started off so good! I mean, had the best surf since twenty three years. I was really good this morning, Hetty, really good."

"And then all hell breaks loose," Hetty puckers her lips sadly.

"Yeah... at this moment, I'd just love to crawl back under the covers and sleep till all of this is over," he admits, his voice quivering lightly.

"Yeah, such days are the worst, _yet_...," Hetty says, but Deeks interrupts her, "If you come to the talk about how friends make you forget all that and that those are the things that make you stronger now, I'm sorry, but I'm not up for that."

Hetty offers a gentle smirk before she says, "No, those are the days to _kick ass_."

Deeks grins at her, "Huh."

"What I mean to say, Mr. Deeks," Hetty says, clasping her hands together, "those are the days that test us, way past the boundaries of our capabilities... and those are the days where we have to show that we can make it past even such hurdles. But I have absolute faith in you and that you can make it through that ordeal. You already proved by living through this _hell_ until you, with all your strength, brought it to an end the same way... and believe me when I say that more than anything, I'd want to leave you the way you want to be left, but... for the sake of maybe another person dying at the hands of your father, if this actually was the case..."

"I gotta pull through the shit," Deeks nods. He made a vow, right? To protect people... and that vow doesn't stop short before sad emotions and trauma.

"I just think the faster we wrap this up, the better," Hetty argues.

"That might be," Deeks sighs.

"Your colleagues are working on this case with all they have. They want to help you. I hope that you see that as something positive. We are here to help you through this ordeal," Hetty says, clapping him on the lower arm for support, to which Deeks replies faintly, "And I appreciate it all, and I'm sorry that I... is just..."

However, Hetty interrupts him this time, "Mr. Deeks, as I said, no apologies from you, and no explanations."

"I just don't know," he bites his lower lip almost hard enough to make it bleed, "it's... I... I had him stored in this box... didn't think he'd come jumping out like that again."

"Sometimes those demons spill out, I fear... even if yours is one nasty," she grimaces with disgust.

"Yeah, I know," Deeks smirks, but then Hetty adds, "But... we'll do anything to shove that demon of yours back into his box... then bust it, shred it, burn it, and spread the ashes into the wind."

Deeks smirks at her lightly, grateful for the words and support. That makes it at least... a bit more bearable. He is not alone with this. That's nice for a change.

"Well, consider it. You are the only one we know who knows Mr. Brandel. You might be our only link to him, sadly," Hetty says in a soft voice.

"I just...," Deeks shakes his head, but Hetty already holds up her hands in surrender, "Take your time. As of now..."

She puts down three chocolates on his table.

"Chocolate?" he can't help but chuckle, so Hetty goes on to explain, "The only treat other than tea I know that helps release tension. And I assure you, it's one of the finest you can find. Only save it for the special occasions."

"Such as demons coming outta the box?" he smirks sadly. He actually likes the thought. "_Hey, have a bad day? Like your abusive father coming back? Have some chocolate, that'll make it all better again_". If the world were that simple really, and chocolate could solve all problems.

"Such as these," she agrees.

"Thanks, Hetty," Deeks nods at her.

"If there is something, don't forget to ask. I'll be up in the Ops. I think you need some time on your own to figure yourself out," Hetty nods.

"Thanks," he sighs. As Hetty wants to walk upstairs, Callen and Sam come back in. They want to go over to Deeks to ask him how he is, but Hetty interrupts, "Mr. Callen! Mr. Hanna! Perfect timing! Come with me upstairs, yes?"

"Oh, uh, sure...," Callen grimaces. The two follow her. Hetty winks at Deeks before she climbs the stairs. He returns with a soft smile, glad that she understands him well enough to know that he really needs his time alone now, to mull this over.

"We actually wanted to talk to Deeks about..." Callen makes a face as they reach the Ops, but Hetty explains, "I know that you want to, but Mr. Deeks, at this very point... has to fight a lot of inner demons, so let's leave him to that until he regained some of his strength."

"Where's Kensi?" Sam asks. As if on cue, the Junior Agent walks in.

"Present," she says.

"Okay, good timing. So... we were at the scene and talked to ballistics," Sam nods, "The bullet is standard revolver. The shooter must have been semi-skilled for that shot. He positioned himself behind a pile of boxes."

"Eric, you got the other video surveillance we sent you?" Callen asks, and Eric nods, "Yeah, but didn't get to see it through yet."

"We thought that maybe we'd find something on neighboring cameras," Sam explains.

"I was at the café. The waiter remembered him because he was very busy with his phone, but couldn't say much other about him. After he was in the café, he quickly left to the parking lot again," Kensi explains.

"And that delivered us... this car," Nell says, projecting the image on the screen.

"Plates show anything?" Sam asks.

"No, even though it has plates... the information goes back to a guy who's dead for five years now. I think it's stolen," Nell tells them with a grimace.

"So we won't gather much from that," Callen grimaces. Another set-back for the list.

"Anything on Brandel's background?" Sam asks.

"This is the complicated matter...," Eric makes a face.

"What? Why's that?" Callen asks with a frown, so Hetty replies, "Mr. Brandel is a ghost, we don't know who he really is."

Suddenly Deeks walks in, still eying the screen, "Gordon John Brandel, 53. Born in Los Angeles. Went to public schools... finished High School as fifth best... later on was in college at the CSULA – California State University Los Angeles, where he studied Mechanical Engineering to make his Bachelor, but dropped out after two semesters... then switched to Computer Science at the same college... dropped out after fourth semester, never made his Bachelor degree. Did his military service, but got thrown out after fulfilling the basic training because he got into fight after fight with his sergeants and people of the troop... Then started off working in a computer firm, Gray and Grey... but was fired after just one year because cuts in budget. Worked on construction sites for a while until he worked in a similar firm again... Bakersfield, it was... that's when he and my mother met. Three months later they married and moved into the place we had... He lost his job another time... when my mother was five months pregnant with me... so he had to start in a body shop, because no one would hire him... with that came frustration... he got into fights more often, and worked in body shop after body shop for years. Drowned his sorrows in alcohol... well, then came my not so bright childhood with him... was one drunk ass who liked to take it out on us that he fucked up in life. Well, then I shot him when I was eleven and he was taken into custody. My charges were dropped eventually... he went to prison, was released after eight years... but on the transport died in a car accident, or so everyone thought."

All stare at him in silence. No one expected him to come in, actually, and deliver it with such clarity on tops.

"I hope you guys can work with that...," Deeks sighs meekly, his former determination instantly fading away from his features and voice.

"I think we can... try... uhm...," Nell bites her lower lip. Callen turns to the detective, "Deeks?"

"Yeah?" he bites his lower lip.

"You wanna go or can I ask you couple of questions?" Callen asks tentatively.

"Go ahead," Deeks nods. He just wants to get over with this.

"Do you mind telling us if he had friends, like from military or so? We think he might work with someone together?" Callen explains. Deeks opens his mouth to say something, but closes it again, takes a deep breath and tries another time, "... Antonio Alvarez... Maxwell Connors... Kyle Brooks... Gerry, I mean Gerald Harrison."

"Were some of them from military?" Callen questions in a soft voice.

"Alvarez and Brooks. He knew them from service, Brooks was also thrown out, because he got into fights with him. Alvarez was in service for three years, had to quit coz they suspected him to have taken money they found in a hideout in Colombia, I think it was... though I never bothered to ask. Connors and Harrison were," he pauses, "the drinking buddies... they played poker together, every Tuesday and Thursday... at our house. Wednesday and Saturday over at the other's."

Four out of seven, that meant that more than half of the week was always hell for him. God, he hates poker nights.

"So they might be candidates," Callen concludes.

"Connors died some five years ago," Deeks says. He read the obituary... and never felt sorry for laughing at it.

"Okay, so we check out those three," Callen nods, "or are there other people he might be involved with, you think?"

"... I know he's had contact with guys from his time at Gray and Grey... and there he's mentioned that he stole information to sell it, one time... that's when they threw him out... Phil and Verne... dunno their last names. Only saw Phil once when I was like... four... dunno," Deeks shrugs. It takes about everything he has to keep the hurtful memories away. He is a detective now, no longer a child. A detective who can go through even such a briefing.

"Did your father steal or try to steal something else?" Callen questions.

"That's what got him thrown out all the time... in the other computer firm he... uh... he stole money by trying to transfer more to his account... but something went wrong and he was busted... and fired... later he stole auto parts and sold them not all too legally... and stole money the same way...," Deeks shrugs. To sum it up, his father one was one corrupt asshole... and he seemingly is till today. Some things just never seem to change, and yes, _things._

"So you think he could've pulled that alone? Changing his identity and all?" Callen asks.

"Before he killed his brain with Gin and Vodka he was very smart... only had _anger issues_. And that he got busted in the firms had to do with him working with people who made mistakes or spilled to authorities, or so he said. Later on it wasn't as refined coz he drank his brain sore, but he ain't stupid, as in... _stupid_," Deeks explains. No, his father was and is a corrupt _and calculating_ asshole.

"So you think he could've done that?" Callen asks again, and Deeks nods, "Yeah, even if... if he did, he had someone with him. When he stole something... he only did it with someone together. One of the things he never learned. He just loved to have one for the dirty work."

Well, except for that special kind of dirty work. He loved to that himself, but that's not the issue here, at least Deeks hopes it won't become an issue.

"So we're looking for at least one person to help him," Callen nods.

"Yup," Deeks bites his lower lip, hugging his arms.

"Do you know Baker? Or do you know if your father had to do with him at some point? Maybe from military service?" Callen goes on, but Deeks shakes his head, "Never heard of that guy, never saw him. Dunno. If I did, I didn't get introduced to him as Baker."

"Okay...," Callen licks his lips. Deeks falls silent again, his eyes withdrawing, so Callen speaks up another time, "Deeks?"

The man looks at him with weary eyes. "Thank you," Callen says in all honesty and with a great amount of admiration. Deeks nods as he steps back.

"Okay, so here we got Alvarez... Harrison... and this is Brooks," Nell breaks the silence by presenting the new information on the screens, "All still residing in Los Angeles. Here are the addresses... let's see... neither one was in the café when Brandel was there... so he must have called them some other time. But maybe they were not smart enough to use a phone you can't trace back... maybe he called at home to get either one. Or at least we can look if this number called to their numbers at some point. I'll check that out."

"And we will interrogate those three," Callen nods at the screen, "as for Alvarez... we'll just order him here. I think we can actually get something if we look through his file. Some old charges might still not be outdated... so Kensi, you take him once we get him here. We take on the other two."

"Okay," Kensi nods.

"Deeks? Do you wanna go home if we have one of them... around?" Callen asks cautiously. Deeks shakes his head, with his head somewhere else. Callen walks over to him, "Do we have to order protection detail to someone, if Brandel's dangerous and tries to get to someone from his past, you think? Your mother or so?"

"Dead for fourteen years, so... I don't think. Unless he wants to vandalize her grave, which I doubt. There's no one other than me... and I'm here, so... no," Deeks says in a hushed voice.

"Okay," Callen says in a soft voice. He gives the other man's shoulder a squeeze before getting back up and he turns to the rest, "Let's go."

He and Sam take off. Kensi studies her partner with a grimace, but he won't meet her eyes. Instead he simply says, "I... got some paperwork to do."

With that he leaves as well. Kensi grimaces, rubbing her hands up and down her upper arms, "I wish this day was just over already..."


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: Hello, everyone! Thanks for the reviews and reading my stuff – and the hugest sorry to all of you who have actually waited for an update... as it is true for my other stories, I'm having an awful writer's block, and apparently, it focused on this particular story and wouldn't let me continue. No joke, I've stared at the screen for twenty minutes straight (again and again) – and didn't get a single sentence done. So I let it rest for a while because I didn't want to just post... _something._

Anyway, I'm still working my way not only through writer's block, but also this story – because this one is the first fanfiction I have really just written a few pages for before I started posting it, after all, I wanted your opinion if this is worth digging into. So it might be that I will revise the previous chapters at some point, but that's not out yet. Nothing's out yet, for now at least. So I hope you forgive me that. It's just my way of... writing.

I hope you'll like this chapter – and that it will make up for the long wait-time. If not – sorry.

As always, reviews are more than welcome and very much appreciated.

Read, review, and hopefully enjoy;)

* * *

Deeks walks back downstairs and heavily flops down in his seat, leaning back in his chair. He lets out a weary sigh as he runs a hand over his face, hoping that by some miraculous magic twist it will wipe the tension from his features, but, _of course_, that doesn't happen. Because magic doesn't exist, and because such magic trick surely wouldn't remove the source of the problem. And for as long as the source remains, the trouble is real – and therefore it's natural that his face already aches, just as does the rest of his body.

This is just all too insane to be true. Or so true that it's insane. The father Deeks thought was dead is suddenly walking the face of earth again – and is on a killer spree as far as it seems... and _of course_ it has to be their case, of all agencies out there. Of course a Marine had to be involved into this somehow, and of course his father couldn't change the playgrounds and try out, _what?_ New York? San Francisco? Milwaukee? Asia? Antarctica? Saturn? Of course not, _of course_. Because fortune just never was his favoring witch. If fortune had ever been on his side, Deeks surely would have some Hallmark Channel worthy family memories for an imagined scrapbook, but his family saga is just... worth a _crapbook._ As trivial as it sounds, it's what Deeks honestly thinks. His past was simply... crap. He could make up a nice metaphor to paint this in an artistic way, but that would give those experiences a quality he doesn't want to grant them. They were crap, are crap, and will always be crap. And now this crapbook is opened back up again and wants to suck him in.

And it was so good before.

Deeks managed to get out of his personal hell long time ago, but just now... just now he feels like he is right back in it. And more than anything Deeks hates it that he feels the same searing pain spreading all the way from his guts to his hairline, so white-hot that he could hurl from the pain, from all the dread washing over him. The same pain that flooded him when younger. The same pain that almost drowned him.

Deeks sits in his chair for a while, simply looking at the ceiling, unsure what to make of... all this. Against all odds, the detective is actually someone who likes to have a plan. Not for the smaller things. He doesn't decide the night before what he is going to wear the next morning. Deeks doesn't go to the supermarket regularly, but only once there is nothing in the fridge anymore. He is likely running late. He often misses doctor's appointments, because Deeks hates them, and because he actually forgets to make a note in the calendar. Only now he starts to stick to appointments – because there is an app for that. Deeks enjoys being spontaneous. You can call him up late at night for a drink or to hit the clubs. He doesn't even have a favorite dish because he likes too many. But for the big things... Deeks always liked to have a plan. That gave him security. First big plan? Become a lawyer. He worked his ass off (quite literally so, as an _Exotic Dancer_) to get the exam, and so Deeks passed it, all by himself, without anyone helping him. Second big plan? He decided to become a cop, to have a better chance to really help the people. When working as a public defender, this awkward feeling kept rising within him that no matter how many he defended, he was just applying band-aids to gunshot wounds. Always came in too late. And so Deeks decided that he had to find a way to stop criminals before they had to ask for a lawyer. So he went into training for LAPD, and later became undercover cop. And because that was his plan, it never bothered him that the other cops hated him. For as long as he stayed true to himself, Deeks never cared for anyone's opinion of him, his job, or his lifestyle. Everything was just the way he had set it out – that was what mattered to him. And even when Hetty surprisingly suggested to hire him, Deeks gave it a lot of thought, a lot of time for his standards, to mull this over and eventually decided to give this position, this team, a shot. And it turned out to be one of the best decisions he's ever made in his life. Deeks just always had a bigger plan in the back of his head. He is a creature of habit, actually. Deeks always lived close to home, and until he was shot, he always followed his daily routine, because Deeks liked it that way. Nicely ordered. No bigger surprises. No interferences. No one in control other than himself. _He_ made up this routine and lived it. It was his, solely his, and even when Deeks had to change his routine, thanks to being a liaison agent, for instance, even the act of alternating his routine as well as the new routine were still his. And Deeks was honestly convinced that this was something no one would or could take away from him again.

He lived that dream, the detective has to admit to himself, but only just a dream.

But this here? This situation? It destroys any routine, any plan, any order. Throws him completely off-track. Sweeps the rug away beneath his feet. Shoots him all the way out of the stratosphere to the universe... which might sound epic in some way, but in the universe is vacuum, so that means... you die. And Deeks, to the day, celebrates life, or tries to. Even if that means forced smiles at times. Or telling yourself that it will get better soon, though you know it won't. Yet, at this moment, it seems so incredibly hard to hold on to that glimmer of hope. And hopelessness is something that brings Deeks to feel truly sad. So much that it might make him cry, as much as he hates that. However, it doesn't just make him sad that this bastard still manages to do that to his plans, viciously destroy them, kick them down beneath his feet, but it makes him honestly furious that this man, even from his grave, seems to haunt him and destroy his life, the one he's built up all by himself.

Deeks can't take any more of this, though. The thoughts make him dizzy and nauseous. He jumps to his feet as though electrocuted as he mutters to himself, "I need some fresh air."

The detective hops up from his chair, swallowing down the bile that threatens to creep up his throat. As he is about to come to the door, Kensi comes over from his right, "Oh, hey!"

"Hey," he blinks at her as he turns around to face his partner, who is still fidgeting around with her cell phone. "What's up?"

"Uhm, I'm heading out. Callen's just texted me that we have... Alvarez," she tells him, uncertain how Deeks will react to the news. Even if she doesn't know what exactly those men did or didn't do, Kensi could take from her partner's tone that something is very wrong about whatever relationship it is he shares with the poker friends. She studies his facial expression, but can't make anything of it. He looks maybe not calm, but composed, while at the same time the tremble in his hand doesn't go unnoticed by the female agent.

"So... you're going to interrogate him now?" he asks, trying his best to keep up a casual tone.

"Yeah," she shrugs. "That was the plan."

"... good," he nods tightly. "... then... you... put him through the mill."

"Surely will," she nods. "... do you want to come and... I don't know, listen in or..."

"No, that'd be... not good. I guess I do best by keeping my hands out of that cookie jar," he shakes his head hastily.

"Yeah, no, of course. Whatever you want," she assures him quickly. "But you can, if you want to."

"Alright," he nods, flashing a smile that doesn't reach his eyes, but dies on the way there.

"Okay... then I guess I should head out," she exhales, clapping her thighs with her palms nervously, "... but you'll be fine?"

"Of course," he assures her, once again flashing this fake smile that makes Kensi's skin crawl.

"Okay, uhm, I'll see you around soon again," Kensi grimaces, but then lowers her voice, "And if you wanna leave..."

"I'll let you guys know," Deeks nods.

"Good," she offers a weary smile, which he returns, though it seems awfully crooked, put against the nice smile he usually has, _"Good,_ now do what I'd do and kick him in the nuts... I mean, not literally... or maybe, yeah, you might literally, too."

Kensi pats his shoulder before she walks outside to the car. Deeks keeps up the smile until she is out of sight. That is when his features instantly sag, like a balloon you let the air out of. He lets out a shaky breath, digging his nails into his forearm to ground himself. Deeks sucks in another deep breath, realizing that tanking some fresh air wasn't that much of a good idea after all. He walks over to the couch and throws himself on it like he did ever since a teenager, not moving out of this position by just an inch.

"Don't move. Just don't move. Then no one can see you...," he mutters to himself a mantra so long since embedded into his system that it still floods back to him during times such as these. If only he could still believe in them...

* * *

A little time later, Kensi arrives at the boatshed where she is greeted by Sam and Callen.

"Hey," she waves lightly as she comes closer.

"Hey," the two say in unison.

"How's Deeks?" Callen asks. However, Kensi can only shrug, "I honestly don't know. He's... down, obviously, but... I just don't know. I have no clue what must be going through his head now."

The other two nod somberly. No one can tell what is going on with Deeks at that moment. Because no one knows what actually happened in his past. And because from what they do know about his past, it stands to reason that the detective's turmoil must be so painful that it obscures all emotions into a single one containing them all, uniting them in terror, horror, pain, dread, sorrow, fear, and so many more.

"Well, let's just hope we get this wrapped up soon so that he can... I don't know, process this," Callen grimaces. "Alvarez is already in the interrogation room. We can't hold him for charges, but because of his connection to Brandel, we get at least to question him."

"Okay," Kensi nods. "Anything else?"

"Not really, we'll do a standard for starters. See where that gets us," Sam shakes his head.

"Alright, so we two talk to Brooks," Callen nods.

"What about Harrison?" she frowns. "I thought we wanted to interview him also."

"Still MIA. Even if we have the address, he was not there. Nell and Eric are using Kaleidoscope to find him, but no luck yet. We'll have to see what we get from those two. Maybe they know where he is," Callen shrugs.

"How's that possible?!" Kensi makes a face. The other two can only shrug. This situation is simply a mess.

"One should think that those guys would be stupid enough to find, but no, they just disappear," she grunts to herself.

"We will find him," Callen shrugs. "We just need a bit more time. And we have those two to start with."

"Alright," Kensi nods, but then asks rather hesitantly, "Do we mention Deeks?"

"I would say no. We don't know if and how far they are involved with Brandel. If they are in, it might backfire on Deeks to expose him," the team leader tells her.

"Good, okay, didn't want to anyways," she shakes her head.

"Why?" Sam frowns.

"Well, even if I don't know what's going on with him, I can tell that Deeks doesn't link the best of memories with those guys. They surely had their hands in something bad," Kensi tells them.

"Well, we'll have to see," Sam shrugs. "Once we have their statements, maybe Deeks can fill in the remaining gaps."

"Wonder what those are," Kensi mutters to herself before she walks into the interrogation room. She comes to face a middle-aged Latino with brown-grey hair, a few but deep wrinkles around the eyes and mouth. His lips are a thin line, not rosy, but with a tinge of brown in them. His eyes are a cold shade of green. The man's eyebrows are furry and grey at the edges. He has broad shoulders and is still in shape, but not slim either. His Adam's apple stands out prominently when he swallows, though he doesn't seem nervous.

Kensi sits down opposite him, studying his features carefully.

"Hello, I'm Agent Blye," she says after a well-measured pause. "I would like to ask you a couple of questions, if that's okay, Mr. Alvarez."

"If that helps you," the man shrugs, leaning back in his chair. "Was wondering anyways what you people want with me. One moment I'm having a sandwich, the next a bunch of suits comes in and tells me that I have to come with them. Just like in the movies."

"This is routine, Sir," she assures him, flashing a fake smile.

"Well, then what can I do for you?" he asks.

"We just have to ask you a couple of questions," she tells him, keeping up a positive attitude to lull him into a sense of security.

"And about what?" the man asks. Kensi puts the folder she brought with her down on the table to retrieve the picture of Brandel in the café.

"Do you know this man?" she asks.

"Hm... I'm not too good remembering faces, you see," he mutters, studying the picture curiously, a crooked smile tugging at his thin lips.

"Maybe if you think about it a little more?" Kensi suggests.

"Wait, yeah, now I... Is that Johnny?" he grins, flashing yellow-white teeth at the female agent.

"Johnny who?" Kensi asks, unimpressed.

"Johnny, nah, uhm... Brandel. Gordon John Brandel. Johnny," Alvarez smirks at the picture almost fondly.

"So you know this man?" Kensi asks.

"Yes, Johnny and I were both in military. Always good for a naughty joke," he chuckles.

"Ah, in military. So you were in the same troop?" Kensi asks.

"Only in training, yeah, but then there were some problems and... well, he had to leave," Alvarez tells her.

"Aha, interesting. In the reports it said that he was cashiered because of his behavior," Kensi argues.

"He's done nothing wrong. He was such a great sport," Alvarez argues.

"But you were not thrown out by the time he was, right?" Kensi questions.

"No," he shakes his head.

"Though you had to leave military later on. Why was that?" Kensi asks.

"Someone was trying to get back at me, I swear, Agent. They accused me that I was into dealing with drugs. Totally ridiculous," Alvarez snorts. By now they know that he was thrown out after an anti-drug operation in Bolivia in 1986 that was supported by US military personnel, and not in Colombia, as Deeks thought he had heard him say. Alvarez was accused of actually having done the exact opposite – and try to profit from the drugs, which led to him being cashiered.

"Well, you were never proven guilty, right?" Kensi smiles at him sweetly.

"Exactly, exactly. Just that it destroyed my career, but hey, what do I care now, huh? Is long since over...," he shrugs, but then glances at the photos again. "Man, from when is that pic?"

"That's from yesterday," she tells him directly.

"What? No... I thought that Johnny... he died a few years back," he shakes his head.

"No, he is very much alive," she shakes her head. "And as it looks, your old friend committed a crime also, which is why we had to bother you to come here."

"What? No, not Johnny. He was such a great guy," Alvarez argues vehemently. Kensi bites down the comments she would like to say out loud about Gordon John Brandel, but that wouldn't be helpful, which is why she confines herself to biting the inside of her cheek.

"Well, he was in prison," she says instead. "So, he didn't have the clearest of records."

"Ah, please, that hearing was a joke," he huffs. And Kensi wants to punch something quite desperately for that comment.

"But now seriously. That's no shit? He's alive?" he asks, now almost hopefully.

"Seemingly so," Kensi shrugs.

"Wow...," he grimaces. "Johnny's back."

Yeah, Johnny's back. And he's killing people. He's _such_ a great guy.

"So, what can you tell me about Mr. Brandel?" Kensi asks, keeping up the casual tone from before, though she finds it increasingly difficult.

"Well, ugh, we knew each other from service... we didn't see each other in a few years. But then we kinda reunited. You know, played poker and all," he shrugs.

"So were you and Mr. Brandel close?" she questions.

"Well, we played poker. I was at his funeral. I don't know how close that is," Alvarez tells her with another shrug of the broad shoulders.

"So you hereby declare that you didn't have any contact with Mr. Brandel whatsoever?" she asks.

"Well, obviously not since I was at his funeral," the man shrugs with an air of nonchalance. Kensi takes out her phone, busying herself with it.

"Okay, uhm, I'm sorry, but you have to excuse me for a moment, I just received a text from my boss, really important," Kensi smiles at him almost sweetly. Alvarez rewards her with a crooked smile in turn, "Sure, it's not like my day's not over anyways."

Kensi flashes another fake smile before she leaves the room. She waits for Sam and Callen to finish their first round. She simply wants Alvarez to brood a bit longer.

* * *

Meanwhile in the other interrogation room, Callen is sitting opposite Brooks. He is a few years older than Alvarez, a Caucasian with long arms and legs which make him look like a marionette. His brown eyes are sunken in, the eyebrows thin and edgy. The long nose gives him almost a bird-like quality, coupled with the almost colorless lips. His hair is a mixture of brunet and blond with a few streaks of grey in them, neatly combed back.

"... do you know a man by name Gerald Harrison?" Callen asks in a faked casual tone.

"Might be, what if?" the man asks with a snort. Sam suddenly steps up to him and bangs his palms on the table, making the guy almost jump out of his seat. "We won't play this game with you. You either tell us what you know or we will get you thrown into prison."

"Hey, now calm down," Callen argues.

"No, I'm fed up with this crap!" Sam yells.

"You see, my partner is really upset, because we're looking for those people and are running out of ideas. We hoped that you could help us out," Callen explains, now almost sweetly.

"Don't I need a lawyer or so?" Brooks frowns at them.

"Do you _need_ one?" Sam huffs.

"What he means to say: if you want one, then you get one, Sir. It's just that we have some general questions, nothing more, nothing less," Callen assures him.

"Fine, okay," he sighs.

"So, do you know a man by name Gerald Harrison?" Sam demands.

"Yes, but I haven't seen him in years," Brooks tells them.

"Why?" Callen questions, to which the man only shrugs his bony shoulders, "He moved away for some reason. I think for the job. Haven't seen him since."

"That's interesting. We have information that he is supposed to reside in L.A., still," Callen argues, though he keeps up a casual tone.

"Then he moved back or something," Brooks replies. "And it's not like I felt obliged to check, you see? I just didn't know he's back."

"Then what about Gordon John Brandel?" Sam questions.

"We were together in military," he explains.

"From the sound of it, you two were troublemakers, hm?" Sam snorts.

"Well, honestly? We were just a bunch of bullhead who thought that military would be a great opportunity for us," Brooks shrugs.

"In the reports it said that you got into fights, with each other and with your sergeants?" Sam asks.

"As I said, we were foolish back then," the slim man tells them.

"So you and Mr. Brandel were not on best terms?" Callen goes on.

"In the beginning not, but... we kinda reconciled after we met a few years later," Brooks says.

"You reconciled, aha," Callen nods. "So did you see each other more regularly after that?"

"Yeah, we played poker with some friends for a couple of years, but then the poor devil landed in prison – and then died. Tragic, really," Brooks shakes his head now almost sadly. "To the day I can't believe that he's dead."

"Because he's alive, perhaps?" Sam huffs, tossing the folder containing Brandel's pictures from the café on the table right in front of the man.

"Huh?" Brooks blinks at him incredulously.

"Those pictures were taken not long ago," Callen tells him calmly.

"What?" he stares at them.

"That man is very much alive and walking around," Sam tells him grimly. "And you didn't know about this?"

"No," is the simple reply.

"Do you want a lawyer _now?"_ Sam huffs.

"I didn't know that he... is alive," Brooks insists.

"Yeah, right," Sam snorts angrily.

"Sir, I'm honest, I didn't know that he's...," Brooks means to say, but Sam bangs his hands on the table again, getting right into the man's face, "If you have something to do with this and don't tell us, then we..."

Callen holds him back by the arm, before he turns to Brooks almost apologetically.

"I think my partner needs a break. If you'd excuse us for a moment?" Callen says politely, "guiding" Sam back outside. As the door closes, G lets go and both smirk at each other. Good cop, bad cop never grows old. They make their way over to Kensi, who is already waiting for them.

"So, that was round one," Callen shrugs, before he turns to Kensi, "How did it go with Alvarez?"

"Well, he claims that he thought _Johnny_ was dead and is now _totally_ surprised that he's seemingly alive," she shrugs.

"Same thing Brooks tried to sell us," Sam snorts.

"To me, it didn't seem like he was honest," Kensi exhales.

"Well, Brooks seemed to be a good actor. When we confronted him with Brandel's pictures, he was pretty composed, but still, it didn't seem earnest," Callen tells her.

"Well, and Alvarez is talking in the _brightest_ lights about Brandel," Kensi grits her teeth. She should have punched him the face for that, really. If only she could take off the badge, give the villains what they deserve, and then take it back up again to charge them for the crime. That would be justice in her opinion.

"They are delivering their story, so that stands to reason," Sam argues.

"But why do they lie?" Kensi grimaces. "I mean, taking aside the option that they have their hands in this somehow?"

"Well, it might be that they just cover up for a 'friend'," Callen tells her. "It's either that they know that he's alive and that's why they cover up for him, or they don't want him to appear in a bad light. Though option one seems far more likely in my opinion."

"Question is if we can draw them out somehow," Sam argues. "They are either really close to Brandel, or they are forced to say that."

"Okay, so I'd say we go for round two. Let's bring in Baker and see what they can tell us about him," Callen suggests. The other two agents nod before they head back inside.

"Ah, took you long enough," Alvarez mutters as Kensi walks in.

"You know how it is with bosses. Funny enough, they keep you from doing your job by urging you to do your job," Kensi lies swiftly.

"I know exactly what you mean," Alvarez nods, seemingly taking the bait.

"So you have that kind of boss also?" Kensi goes with it.

"No, I had one who was just like that. If he had just let us do our job, we would have been done in three hours less, but no, he always had to check in," Alvarez grumbles.

"Well, I hope we can wrap this up quickly," Kensi returns to the topic. "But for that I have to ask you some more questions."

"Then go ahead," Alvarez nods.

"We know that Mr. Brandel was involved with a man by name Gerald Harrison. Do you come to know this man?" Kensi asks, keeping up a very casual tone.

"Gerry? Yeah, he also played poker with us from time to time. Though I haven't seen the man in ages," Alvarez replies with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Was he at the funeral, do you know?" she asks.

"Yeah, we all were," Alvarez smiles at her. "Johnny's had many friends."

_"We?"_ Kensi frowns.

"Our poker group. Gerry, Johnny, Tony, Max and I," Alvarez nods.

"So you don't come to know where Mr. Harrison is?" Kensi asks.

"No, as I said, I haven't seen him in ages. He's moved away short time after Johnny's death and... I haven't seen him since, sorry," Alvarez answers.

"Okay. Do you know a man by name William Baker?" she asks.

"That name seems not too uncommon," Alvarez shrugs. "Might be, but..."

"Well, maybe that picture helps?" Kensi suggests as she shows him Baker's picture.

"Sorry, I've never seen that person," he replies directly, pushing the photo away again.

"What about this? Maybe the picture just wasn't up-to-date?" Kensi argues as she slides the next photo over to him, which shows Baker's body from the scene. Alvarez looks at it, but then makes a distraught face, "Oh my God. He died?"

"He was killed," Kensi corrects him.

"Oh, oh my goodness," Alvarez grimaces.

"So you really don't know this man?" Kensi asks again.

"Not at all," Alvarez assures her.

"Where were you last night?" Kensi asks.

"What? I don't know this guy. I've never seen him, Agent, I swear," Alvarez argues vehemently.

"Where were you last night?" she asks again.

"In bed, with my wife. The way I do every night. I don't know what that's supposed to mean here. Do you think... you think that I murdered him?" he blinks at her incredulously, but Kensi is having none of it it.

"Mr. Alvarez, we're just trying to get rid of the usual suspects," Kensi argues, faking a softer tone.

"I don't know this person," he assures her.

"Do you know if Mr. Brandel had contact to this man during your time of friendship?" Kensi goes on, unimpressed.

"Agent, I can assure you. I've never seen this poor devil until you showed those pics to me. If Johnny knew him, then he knew him, but I have no clue just who the hell he is," Alvarez argues vehemently.

"You are aware that if you lie to us, you'll be charged, right? For withholding that kind of information, for obstruction of justice?" Kensi asks him, her eyes narrow slits.

"What? Please, Agent, I got nothing to do with that," Alvarez replies.

"And you're sure about that," Kensi says.

"Yeah, I'm sure," the man nods.

"You never saw this man," Kensi goes on.

"No, not until you've showed me the pic," Alvarez approves.

"But you know Mr. Brandel," Kensi says, to which the man nods, "Yeah, I know Johnny."

"From military," Kensi checks.

"Yeah," Alvarez replies.

"But you were friends even after that time, and met on occasion," Kensi goes on.

"Yes, we met sometimes," he answers.

"And you thought he was dead?" Kensi goes on.

"Yeah, I didn't know that he wasn't... until now," Alvarez tells her.

"You didn't see Mr. Brandel since his prison time?" Kensi asks.

"I didn't see him since his funeral, right," he nods, but then his eyes widen before he speaks hurriedly, "Now wait. _Prison_ time? I thought you wanted to know if I didn't see him since the funeral... doesn't matter. Well, that... hm... Did I see him there? Lemme think... I suppose I visited him in the beginning, but later on no longer."

"Okay, Mr. Alvarez. I'm sorry for the inconvenience, but I have to leave you here another time. I'll be back in a moment," Kensi smiles before she exits the room where Sam and Callen are already waiting, leaving Alvarez to himself.

"So? What did round two bring you?" Sam asks as she comes over to the table.

"Well, he says he didn't see Harrison in years. When going through the security questions, he struggled at one point. I think Alvarez trained those questions over and over to answer them swiftly. When he realized the flaw, however, he seemed upset for a moment," Kensi answers. "You?"

"We did a good cop, bad cop again. Brooks seemed uncertain at some point, but he stuck to his story," Sam tells her.

"Hello?" Nell's voice suddenly rings from the screen.

"Oh, hey, you got something for us?" Kensi asks hopefully.

"Well,we still have no clue where Harrison might be. The address is valid, but there is simply no one home. The loan's paid on time, and that from Harrison's bank account, but he seemingly doesn't actually live there," Nell shrugs. Eric comes into view, "As for Alvarez and Brooks, there is nothing in the legal record. We can't charge them for anything anymore, not even for a parking ticket."

"We didn't find phone calls between those either," Nell adds.

"Anything on Brandel?" Kensi asks hopefully.

"Nope, Kaleidoscope is still searching for him, but no clue yet," Eric tells them with a grimace.

"This is just too wicked," Kensi mutters to herself. They are right there, right in those rooms, and she knows that they tell lies. Still, they can't charge them or turn the tables. They are there, while at the same time they are not. And it is that invisible part they have to grasp and hold on to, so Kensi knows.

"Then Baker?" Sam asks.

"No," Nell shakes her head.

"... so we have nothing?" Callen frowns.

"Well, we might have something in terms of the deletion that was done about Brandel's file. We are now trying to trace back the IP addresses, but this is one pain in the you-know-what. This went over multiple IP's all over the globe, with some more twists in-between that I'm so kind to spare you to explain in detail," Nell tells them.

"We hope that we find out who was behind this, but again, this will take some time," Eric argues.

"It's surely better than nothing. Anything else?" Callen asks.

"Not really," Nell shrugs, looking helpless. "We're trying our best."

"We know," Callen assures her quickly.

"Then what do we do about those two?" Kensi asks, thumbing in the direction of the interrogation rooms.

"We will let them go for now, Miss Blye," Hetty's voice suddenly rings from the screen as the petite woman makes her way inside.

"What?" Kensi gapes.

"We could hold them now for a few more hours, only to get more lies. Or we can give them the feeling of security, send them back out, and see if they contact someone," Hetty shrugs.

"She's right. They now know that NCIS is looking into the case – and that they are on our list. That means if they are involved into the coup, whatever that is, they will probably try to meet or contact whoever else is involved. To either issue a warning or to make a change of plan. We should just follow them and see what they do. Maybe Brandel shows up after all," Callen nods.

"Exactly," Hetty nods.

"Okay, then we do that. Eric and Nell, you keep tabs on them through Kaleidoscope. See if they make phone calls, anything," Callen orders, and the analysts reply in unison, "Roger."

"We will drive after them to do some observation from the cars, to see if they move out," Callen orders.

"And we will have an observant eye on the situation from here," Hetty adds.

"Alright, then the plan is set. We let them walk," Callen says, turning back to the other two agents.

"Okay," Kensi and Sam nod curtly. After that they make their way back into the interrogation rooms. Alvarez looks at her with huge eyes. It's clear that he is still somewhat irritated after he made a flaw in his story, but does well at hiding it.

"Alright, Mr. Alvarez. We have now taken your statement. We thank you for your cooperation," Kensi tells him stiffly.

"Sure, always glad if I can help, ma'am," Alvarez flashes a toothy smile, seemingly satisfied that he got away with it – or so he thinks.

"Well, it might become necessary to ask for your help again, in case there are further questions," Kensi warns him.

"As I said, I'm always glad to help out," Alvarez nods.

"Great, then the agents who brought you will now be so kind to bring you back home. Thank you very much. And sorry for stealing your time," she winks at him. Alvarez gets up and follows her outside where he soon disappears inside the car – and then in the distance of the street. Kensi lets out a grunt as she strides over to their cars, where Callen and Sam are already waiting for her.

"Okay, Alvarez is on his way," Kensi grimaces.

"We will give them a bit of a head start before we drive after them," Callen nods. "So you take on Brooks, we take on Alvarez. He didn't see us, and Brooks didn't get to see you, so this seems to be the better option here. Do you want me to call in another agent to partner up with?"

"No, I'm fine," Kensi assures him quickly. She doesn't want another partner. She wants her partner back. And for that they have to get this case solved, easy as that.

"Well, I would rather have you covered," Callen grimaces.

"Callen, it's fine, honestly. It's just observation. And Brooks and Alvarez don't live more than five minutes apart. So you can be here if needed," Kensi argues.

"Fine, then we do it like that," Callen sighs once he realizes that Kensi, once again, is playing the _I'm-stubborn-because-I-care-for-my-partner-card_, which means that she gets what she wants. The team leader claps his hands together. "I think that was enough of a head start, let's go."

With that he and Sam get inside their car while Kensi gets into hers and drive after the two.

More lies.

More mysteries.

And no conclusions yet.

This case is a real pain.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: As always, thanks for reading and reviewing – and enjoying my story. You're such a kind readership!

After we got a bit of interrogation in the last chapter (which hopefully made those of you happy who wanted to see more case/team-fic character), I wanted to return to Deeks in this one (because it's Deeks-centric-fic after all, sorry^^).

Mini-warning/spoiler (skip if you don't want): The time for the observation may seem a bit short, but I didn't think it'd be very productive or fun to read a constant exchange of "what do you see?" - "Nothing." - "And now?" - "Still nothing", so it takes definitely longer than a few minutes.

Anyway, I still hope that you won't be too disappointed.

Read, review, and hopefully enjoy;)

* * *

Back at the NCIS, Deeks is busy staring at the ceiling, _once again_. After Kensi left to interrogate the poker buddies, or some of them, all energy for productivity left him. Now, the detective just feels tired, not as though he could fall asleep, but just... exhausted. The way he feels after a mission gone wrong, with lots of explosions, scratches and bruises, and not even the good feeling of having saved someone. Maybe Deeks should go home after all. But then again... at home he would do just what he does here: stare at the ceiling, wallow in self-pity, be sorry for himself. And Deeks doesn't want to be that. He hates himself for being like that, always did. That is when he stopped living – and Deeks swore to never let that happen again. Life, so he believes, is still a gift – and too precious to give away for something as cheap as self-pity. Because it doesn't get you forward, only backward, abducts you into that darkness – and leaves you there. If you throw your life away for a bad past, then you throw away your future, leaving you with empty hands.

Deeks turns his head at the sound of familiar short steps approaching. The detective sits up, running his left hand over his face and hair to look somewhat _not-screwed-up,_ though he doesn't think this will work. Deeks meets Hetty's eyes, offering a small smile. His eyes travel down to see that she comes with two cups of tea. _Of course_ Hetty comes with tea.

"Hey, Hetty," he greets her.

"I thought you and I may have some tea," she replies as she settles down next to him, pushing his cup over the table to his side.

"Thanks," he nods. "So... how is it going?"

"We are... working on it," she sighs, taking a sip of her favorite drink.

"So they are still interrogating?" Deeks asks, silently frowning to himself that he actually asks when in fact he doesn't want to have anything to do with it. Perhaps it's the detective within him screaming out loud – and Deeks hates the guy for that.

"No," she shakes her head.

"... then what's next?" he asks with a grimace. Something about her voice is unsettling him.

"That is why I'm here actually," Hetty sighs.

"... I kinda feared you'd say that," he sighs.

"Well, we didn't get too much from them, other than that we think they knew more than they'd admit," Hetty tells him. "So... we had to make a new plan."

"And what is that new plan?" Deeks asks, though deep in his guts he knows that this is an answer he doesn't want to hear.

"We let them go and are now observing them," Hetty tells him calmly.

"... oh... okay," Deeks bites his lower lip. That is... he knew this would come at some point, but then again... he honestly hoped that it wouldn't. Maybe Deeks believes in magic after all, or he wants to believe in it. _Close your eyes and it's okay_. Didn't he believe in that also? Doesn't he still at some point? Childish memories that are perhaps the only comfort that remained of the otherwise lineage of darkness and pain? So who is he kidding? He's a dreamer after all. And so he dreamed that this blow wouldn't come, that by some magic trick, the team would find the solution to solve all problems, get the bad guys, close the case and grant him to live his life again.

Perhaps being hopeful is no more than being foolishly easy-believing in magic after all.

"We don't leave them out of sight," she assures him, though. Deeks flashes a brief smile that, once again, doesn't even closely reach his eyes, but dies somewhere along the way.

"I know that this is not what you'd probably want, but I hope that you see the necessity, Mr. Deeks. We try to get to Mr. Brandel – and that seems the best of options to do that, given the current circumstances," Hetty tells him in a hushed voice. Even if she doesn't know all details, Hetty knows enough from the reports she got to read that this man deserves the worst. And if his friends had their hands in this somehow, then the same is true for them in her opinion.

The detective bites his lower lip another time, nodding his head, "Yeah, I know. It has to be."

"So... I want to be honest to you, we're still in muddy waters," Hetty begins, but Deeks holds up his hand, "You want... more info."

"If possible, yes. You are the only link we know we can ask about those men, this man in particular... who is not on their side," the petite woman explains. Deeks lets out a weary sigh. To the day, he curses his bloodline, at least on the paternal side. Not only that he has to be his offspring, but also that he has to share a past with the man that now reaches back into the present, holds on to him, suffocates him, pulls him down into the abyss.

"Just great," he mutters to himself.

"I know that we are overstepping all personal boundaries here, Mr. Deeks, but...," Hetty begins, however, Deeks interrupts her in a soft voice, "I see the necessity."

"So, would you mind to join us in the Ops, just to share what you're up to?" Hetty asks cautiously.

"How could I say no to that offer, huh?" he winks at her.

"But before we go, have some tea, Mr. Deeks. It's a special blend that is supposed to help calm the nerves," Hetty grins at him. The detective takes up the cup to take a sip, only to almost spit the tea back into the mug.

"God, what is that?" he shudders.

"What? You don't like it?" she frowns.

"No offense, this tastes like green tea made of rotten fish," Deeks coughs.

"It is a very expensive blend, Mr. Deeks," Hetty chuckles.

"And I bet that an expert like you can enjoy it, but I'm just... a cretin," he chuckles. "And more of the coffee type of a cretin after all."

"I will get you there," she chuckles, but then gets up. "Mind to join? Or do you need another moment?"

"No, no, I'm coming with," Deeks assures her. Hetty nods, walking ahead. The detective glances at the cup another time, but then pushes it away with a disgusted face. He'll rather die a coffee-drinking cretin than a tea-expert who likes this. _Blegh._ Though Deeks sees the gesture. For a fleeting moment, he forgot his troubles and was simply disgusted by the tea's awful taste. Hetty, the team, they are doing really everything to help him.

The detective gets up and hurries after Hetty up to the Ops. However, once he walks down the corridor, he slows down, or rather, his feet just become suddenly so heavy that it makes him dizzy in the head. Just what the hell is he doing? Deeks is just about to actually see them, walking, roaming the streets, living their lives – after they were dead for him in years now. And he is actually striding here with a smile tugging at his lips. Maybe there was something in this tea after all?

Deeks shakes his head, but then decides to go inside regardless of the demons resurfacing from the deep waters of the sea called life. The detective shakes off all those thoughts for the sake of the investigation and goes inside. As he enters, the two analysts turn around, offering sweet smiles that speak of care and the attempt of reassurance. The detective offers a gesture of appreciation, but then chooses to stand in the back, one hand firmly holding on to the edge of the table while the other is clasped around his midsection over to the other arm to hold on to it. If they notice his tension, they do well at ignoring it, something Deeks is honestly glad for.

"Okay, Mr. Beale, where are we at?" Hetty asks, her eyes fixed on the screens.

"Ready to go," Eric nods.

"Mr. Callen?" Hetty turns to the agents who are observing everything from a safe distance in their cars.

"Nothing new," the team leader informs her. "Alvarez hasn't left the house since he was dropped off."

"Ms. Blye?" Hetty asks.

"Same for Brooks," the female agent tells her, but then she narrows her eyes as the front door opens. "Wait, Brooks is moving... he's walking his dog."

Sam and Callen frown at each other.

"After he was just accused of conspiracy and murder... that guy walks his dog," Sam makes a face.

"Maybe he wants to meet up with someone?" Callen suggests.

"He has a fable for big dogs," Deeks says, his eyes fixed on the screen.

"So this is usual for him?" Kensi asks again, trying not too sound too excited at the sound of her partner's voice.

"He's always had dogs, the big ones, like this Doberman. He used to have five when he was still... younger," Deeks goes on, biting his lower lip nervously. It's one thing to see them in a picture, but once they are in motion... they are more alive than Deeks would like them to be, possibly more than he can take.

"Okay, I will follow him," Kensi tells them. The detective bites down whatever warning or comment he may have in mind. He can't interfere with the op at this point. Brooks wasn't the worst. So Kensi should be okay... she has a gun, and she is a little ninja assassin after all. She has to be okay. Has to. His heartbeat increases tenfold. Deeks knows he should be there with her. Should be her partner, but now, he couldn't help her. Because he would do things he normally wouldn't. Would move before it's time. Or not move at all. And he can't endanger Kensi or anyone of the team. At this moment, he has to play the observer, the informant, the bystander. Because he can't lose the team to his past either. He cares too much about them. Deeks unconsciously presses his fingernails into his forearms, trying to regain focus and calm. It's long since over. Those are just suspects. It's just a case. And he is no longer a child. It's different. It has to be different. Has to.

"Any sign of Brandel?" Callen questions.

"Nothing yet," Nell tells him.

"Did Brooks make any phone calls?" Kensi asks as she walks after the man in a safe distance.

"Not yet either," Eric replies.

"Same for Alvarez," Nell adds.

"Well, his wife is seemingly home also, so maybe that's why he doesn't do anything," Sam concludes.

"Might be," Nell shrugs.

"Okay, we're reaching the park now," Kensi tells them over the comm.

"We have you over the security camera," Eric says.

"It's fairly crowded. So it might be that he meets up with someone," Kensi says. And she actually hopes that it is Brandel. Because then he can go back to where he came from, prison. Or rather grave.

"Okay, someone is using the computer at home," Nell speaks up.

"Is he contacting someone?" Callen asks.

"No, I think it's his wife who's using the computer," Nell shakes her head.

"Why?" the team leader asks.

"She's writing an e-mail to a friend, with pictures from a birthday party. The friend is... Angela Moore, who had her birthday...," Nell explains, pausing as she pops up with the identity information on Angela Moore on-screen. "Last weekend. In the e-mail Mrs. Alvarez tells her that she hereby sends the pictures from the party for Mrs. Moore's album."

"Is it weird to do that after your husband was just questioned?" Sam suggests.

"Well, she apologizes for sending them so late, because the friend said she needed them desperately... and maybe Alvarez didn't tell her. She wasn't there when the agents came," Eric argues.

"Seems likely. To the friends he always said that you do best at keeping your wife unaware," Deeks swallows.

"Okay, and Alvarez himself is not using the computer?" Callen asks.

"Not as far as we can see," Nell shakes her head. "She now browses for recipes... and posts something in her blog, about those recipes. I really think there is nothing much behind this."

"She's a passionate cook, at least he always pondered on that," Deeks nods.

"Okay, keep watching if there is any change," Callen nods. "Kensi? What's going on with Brooks?"

"Other than that he just tossed the bag of dog poop into the next best trash can, nothing much," she makes a face.

"Yeah, I don't want any details on that one," Sam snorts.

"Alright, he's heading out of the park, I think back home. So he didn't use the opportunity to meet. I had him in sight at all times. Nothing," Kensi summarizes, unable to hide the disappointment in her voice. She hoped that this would bring them to Brandel – and this ordeal would simply be over. But of course... nothing goes easy when it should be.

Kensi follows Brooks all the way back home. The door shuts behind him – and seemingly all hope of wrapping this case up along with him.

"Okay, he's back in the house. I'm blind again," Kensi sighs as she makes her way back to the car. That was not in the least productive. _Great, just great_.

"Okay, so much to that... what's going on with you guys?" the female agent sighs.

"Alvarez didn't leave the house," Sam tells her over the comm. Deeks runs a shaky hand over his face. He knows what this is ebbs into. And this is worse than actually having them on-screen. By far. Maybe a bit prolonging, but he sees it coming. Just the way it did back then. The person who said that history repeats itself probably made a case in point – and Deeks hates him or her for that, at least he does now.

He is cast out of his own thoughts, however, as Brooks comes out another time, but with two children in tow – and that is when real terror hits him.

"Okay, he's moving again," Kensi tells them over the comm. Deeks stares at the screens with huge eyes, digging his fingernails so deeply into the arm that he can feel the first prickles of blood. He never thought about that, didn't dare to, didn't want to, but...

"Uhm, Nell?" he brings out, his voice shaking, though he tries to swallow the lump in his throat.

"Yes?" she turns to him.

"Can you tell me if... if Alvarez has kids, too?" he questions, licking his lips nervously, praying to all Gods available that he does not. Oh please, don't have kids. Wife, fine, but not kids. Just not kids, _please!_

"What? Why?" the analyst blinks at him.

"Just... just coz," he tells her. His brain is not working – and so his arguments are not even in the least convincing, but Deeks hopes on her goodwill.

"No, he doesn't," Nell tells him, tilting her head at the upset detective. Deeks grasps the fabric of his shirt covering his chest, trying to force Nell's words into his brain somehow so that his body gets the message, too. He doesn't have kids.

"And... and Harrison?" he asks.

"None that we know of," Nell shakes her head with growing concern. However, now Hetty's attention is on them also.

"Mr. Deeks, is everything alright?" she asks, narrowing her eyes at him.

"I will be right back. I just have to use the restroom real quick," Deeks replies before he rushes out of the Ops.

"Did I do something wrong?" Nell asks worriedly.

"Nothing at all, Ms. Jones. I think Mr. Deeks is just... processing," Hetty assures her. Though something is definitely not only unsettling about his behavior, but is hinting at a direction the petite woman would rather stay away from. She sincerely hopes that she is mistaken and that the detective simply needs another time-out from the personal stress that comes with this operation, so that they are not forced down that path.

"Hetty, what's wrong?" Kensi asks. She just heard some mumbling, but couldn't make it out – and that is upsetting her.

"Mr. Deeks excused himself for a moment. No need to worry, Ms. Blye," Hetty tells her, her voice not betraying her once. Kensi grimaces, but chooses not to comment. She will ask Deeks herself once they are back at the NCIS, easy as that.

Deeks, meanwhile, somehow made it to the restrooms and staggers into one of the stalls, just to throw up into the toilet. He never thought about this when he should have. Must have. And not just when it's all too late already._ Oh God_! They could have had children – and he wouldn't have done anything about it. No, Deeks had been too busy with himself to see that. The detective curses under his breath as he goes on dry heaving. He messed up. He didn't do his job. He was simply lucky in being unlucky that the worst case scenario didn't come about. But it could have come differently. And Deeks should have checked. It was his obligation for those children already. Even if they aren't there now, and possibly won't ever, he has responsibility towards these children. And yet, Deeks didn't. It upsets him so much that the detective can hardly take it, can hardly breathe. And he calls himself a cop, someone who protects the innocent. Doesn't this make all those vows, promises, good intentions vacuous? And him a joke, a pathetic excuse of a police officer? If he can't even... Deeks starts heaving another time, feeling so dizzy in the head that all those thoughts and feelings mesh into a bundle of unrecognizable shape and content, only with an aura of regret radiating from it, with solely one message clearly ringing out loud - that he messed up.

Deeks gags a few times against the bile in his throat. Maybe Hetty's tea was not the best idea after all. The detective flushes the toilet a few times before he walks over to the sink, splashing cold water against his heated skin, trying to wash not only the stench of vomit away, but the fears along with it. Deeks stares at his reflection in the mirror, and for a fleeting moment, he is convinced that it is staring back at him, with a vicious smile. The detective shakes his head, massaging the bridge of his nose with pinky and index finger. He smooths his hand over his hair another time before he leaves the bathroom and makes his way back into the Ops.

"Ah, Mr. Deeks. You're back," Hetty greets him. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, I think the tea was maybe a bit too strong," he offers a weak smile as he takes his spot again. "Something new?"

The three shake their heads in unison.

"He dropped the children off at his ex-wife's house," Kensi says. "But now he's back home."

"Who's had an eye on the children while he was interrogated?" Deeks asks.

"His new girlfriend," Kensi replies.

"Tabatha Scott," Nell adds meekly. "Do you know her?"

"No," Deeks shakes his head.

"Well, they are together for about a year now. The divorce was two years ago," Nell informs him.

"So... joint custody," Deeks concludes.

"Yeah," the female analyst nods. Deeks can't help a small smile creeping up his lips. At least their lives aren't sugar-coated either. He is sorry for the kids, but definitely not for the father. It might be that he was not the worst, but he was there also.

"Yes, we traced back a phone call. His girlfriend ploned the mother when our agents took him, which is why he was supposed to bring them back home now," Eric explains.

"Okay," Deeks nods, glancing at the screens again.

"Alright, I think we're past the high time," Callen says after a longer while in which nothing happened. "We're returning to the OSP."

"What?" Kensi gapes.

"We don't get anything from sitting here. If they move out, we have them with Kaleidoscope," Callen argues.

"Mr. Callen is right," Hetty approves, but then turns around to Deeks to offer an almost apologetic look. He knew this was coming. That they'd drop this lead. And even if Deeks didn't like the idea to have them on-screen, have them near again, it actually reassured him in some way that the team watched those men. However, that's over now. And that means they are out of their control again, at least that is what it feels like to him.

"Okay, then we're heading back," Callen says.

"I guess that means I'm no longer required here," Deeks exhales.

"You don't have to leave," Eric argues.

"I think I kinda do," the detective replies. "Sorry. If you need me, I'm downstairs."

He walks off without another word. Maybe he swore to never do that again, but Deeks wants to wallow in self-pity a little longer, staring at the ceiling in the hope to see the silver lining people keep talking about.

* * *

Soon, Sam, Callen and Kensi are back at the NCIS.

"Okay, Kensi? You go see after Deeks, if that's alright," Callen suggests.

"Wanted to anyways," Kensi nods, honestly glad that she can check on her partner now. It made her more than uneasy to leave him behind, especially during times such as these.

"If there's something he'd like to say... or thinks he has to say, just bring him up, or call us down, whatever he wants," Callen suggests. Deeks gets extra-treatment today, that much is clear. Even Callen, the stoic man he can be, will grant the team member that much. Kensi nods her head hastily before she walks into the bullpen. Sam and Callen head upstairs. The female agent looks around the bullpen, surprised to find it empty. Kensi expected to find her partner buried in paperwork, to be honest. She frowns as she walks further until she comes to the lounge area, where she can finally spot the familiar mob of blond curls. He is lying on the sofa, his head to the side, absently staring at something that's probably not even there. And it seems so much more interesting than the rest of the world that Deeks doesn't even seem to take notice of her as she steps over to the couch. Kensi bows down in front of his eyes, her dark curls falling over her shoulder. She searches his eyes, but they only meet hers after a few agonizing moments. Once their glances clash, however, there is this weariness she doesn't know from Deeks until... today.

"Hey," she exhales silently.

"... hey," Deeks breathes. "You're back."

"And you're... chilling out," she smirks weakly.

"Kind of," he shrugs. "I guess that observation was a lead balloon, huh?"

"It was worth the shot," Kensi argues. Deeks grunts as he sits up, though his movements are way too slow to Kensi's liking. Usually, her partner is one to jump from one action to the next. However, the weariness seems to creep its way throughout his whole body, capturing it in a fatigue that doesn't fit her otherwise so lively and active partner. The detective nervously rubs over his lower arms, trying to calm down, but he can feel this familiar cold pain spreading within him that makes his chest ramble.

"Yeah...," he exhales, not meeting her eyes, since he is too busy staring at the wall behind her and ramming his fingernails deeper and deeper into the skin of his forearms.

"Yeah," Kensi copies him. She tilts her head to meet the detective's eyes, but Deeks simply can't, so he bows his head, running his hand over the neck. There is so much he'd like to say, love to say, but every word, every thought turns acid before they can travel past his lips. Rationally, he sees all the advantages, all the tactics that underlie the team's course of actions, but irrationally, he would love to scream, yell at them to stop. Because this brings him to a place he crawled out of with bloody fingernails and more than a few scars to show, what almost cost him everything, if it didn't already.

"You didn't want us to stop the observation, did you?" the female agent asks hesitantly.

"It's Callen's and Hetty's decision," he argues.

"But that means you don't share their opinion," Kensi returns.

"Kens, could we not interrogate me?" he exhales.

"I'm not. I'm just trying to understand it," Kensi replies. "Look, if there is a reason why we should continue the observation, then you have to say so."

"It's Callen's decision, and Hetty's," Deeks argues vehemently.

"Why do you think it's a bad idea?" Kensi insists.

"I don't think it is. Rationally, it's the best thing to do," her partner replies, his voice rising slightly. He tries hard not to snap at her, but Kensi is intruding those areas he rather keeps to himself, even in such a situation. Some walls are just too high and well-protected. And Deeks wants them to stay that way or else he will collapse along with these walls.

"But irrationally?" Kensi asks.

"There is no irrational side, because rational side is right," Deeks answers.

"Look, I can tell that something doesn't sit right with you when it comes to this. Why don't you tell me?" Kensi questions in a soft voice.

"It's nothing," Deeks replies, licking his lips nervously.

"Yes, it is, or else you wouldn't act the way you do right now," Kensi argues.

"It's this whole situation. I'm not thinking clearly," Deeks dismisses the idea.

"Deeks, talk to me," Kensi demands, though in a soft tone.

"There's nothing. I... no, just no. It's nothing. I'm just being stupid," he argues vehemently. Deeks doesn't want to talk about them, about it, about him. Anything. Because that would make them, it, him bigger again. And that after Deeks spent years compressing and folding those layers of darkness until they were tiny enough to stuff into a box and shove it into the deepest and darkest corners of his mind. Put a lock on it and hoped that they, it, him would never come back. Never. _Never!_ But now the lock's gone and more and more parts are removed, unraveled, to clear a passage to the front rows of his consciousness. Deeks sees and feels how more and more layers are unfolded and cling on to the walls of his mind, like ticks that bite into the skin and don't let go until they are full. They gain space again. They, him, it try to take over once anew. And Deeks can't let that happen. He has to stop this, if only he knew how. If only he knew anything, but for that he'd have to think rationally again. And Deeks knows he is an irrational being at this point. A wounded animal that's so afraid that it would choose imprisonment over coming face to face with them, it, him. The predator. Why does the brain only then lose the battle to the heart when it would be actually favorable? Why does the heart only win when there is pain as a price?

"You know that you can tell me anything, right?" Kensi asks in a hushed voice. Well, honestly, she doesn't know if he can tell her anything. After all, they aren't telling each other everything. A lot, but not everything. Even if her partner can be way too open about the trivialities or privacies of life that she is sometimes honestly confused and grossed out, she knows that Deeks still doesn't tell her everything. He rarely talks about his past, except for that what Kensi figures he is confident to share. Except for a few comments and fleeting moments, he doesn't talk about his family. Especially not his father. Or his mother. If Deeks has a brother or sister – Kensi couldn't be sure until today. She didn't even know that his mother was dead for so long now. She didn't even know she was dead. She only learned, after a while, that his father was abusive. And that was it.

So can he really talk to her about anything? It's so easily said, but at some point Kensi honestly asks herself also if she _wants_ to know. Because a part of her is afraid of the darkness that looms over his past – and what it may do with Deeks. For someone who is so happy and joyous in life, it still seems hard to imagine that he suffered such pain in the past. So does she want to know that all those smiles she found genuine were... fake? All forced smiles?

"Yeah, I know," he assures her after a while, pushing Kensi out of her thoughts back into the present.

"So?" Kensi asks, gaining confidence from somewhere, though she doesn't know where.

"I can't," is the simple reply. He can't talk about this. Not to Kensi of all people. He cares too much about her to do that to her. He didn't do it to anyone either, none that he cared about. Because he knows that it is a bliss after all, not to know.

"Well, my door's always open for you," she offers.

"... you don't have a door here," Deeks jokes weakly.

"Neither do you," she retorts, a small smile creeping up her face – because a bit of his glitter returned to his eyes, they seem a little more like their original shade of blue that is as clear as the ocean and just as deep.

"Still, thanks," he offers a crooked smile.

"Not for that," she exhales before she sits down next to him.

"Don't you have work to do?" he huffs.

"You're part of my job," she snickers.

"Aha? In how far?" Deeks asks, faking curiosity.

"You're my partner. That means _you're_ part of my job," Kensi shrugs.

"Am I that much work?" he jokes. His eyes drift off to the ceiling again.

"You have no idea," she joins him, but then turns more serious, "but it's okay. For as long as it's about you, partner."

He smiles silently, not meeting her eyes. Kensi copies his movement and glances up to the ceiling also.

"What are we looking for?" she asks in a hushed voice.

"The silver lining," is the simple reply.


End file.
